


Breathe Again

by LostLeaf



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: AU, Freddy's POV, Humour (or my attempt at it), Jacob X Freddy, Jacob's POV, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Tags will be updated, alternative universe, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostLeaf/pseuds/LostLeaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob starts work in his first ever job at Starrick-Tech, but it isn’t long before he catches the eye of one of the executives and things start moving a lot faster than he’d bargained for. </p><p>Alternative Universe. Current/modern day setting.</p><p>*My second ever fanfic*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A First For Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me a couple of days ago after a friend sent me a pic of Roth and Jacob taking a selfie together in her Sims 4 game. I just had to start writing to see where it ends up…. here goes!
> 
> Thanks for taking a look!

** Chapter 1: A First For Everything **

Jacob skidded to a stop outside the office complex and glanced down at his brand new trousers. Great. Completely soaked to the knees and covered in mud. He could already hear Evie’s voice nagging at the back of his mind. He shouldn’t have biked, he should’ve taken the bus, just like she’d told him to. But Jacob hated how restricted buses made him feel. He much preferred the freedom of zipping between the traffic and feeling the breeze tussling through his thick brown hair as he went.

He cycled around to the back of the building, into the main carpark and found a bike rack, leaving his trusty (and rusty) old bike in place there. He glanced down at his watch and congratulated himself. 8:52. Early for once. Jacob was never early for anything, but today was different. Today was his first day in his first ever job. He couldn’t mess this up.

Although his twenty-first birthday was fast approaching, all Jacob had managed to do since leaving college was drift. He hadn’t meant to, but the death of his father had caused him to completely lose himself and his focus in life. He’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, he knew that—experimenting with drugs, endless partying and getting drunk, then spending whole weekends passed out on a random stranger’s floor wasn’t the _best_ way to deal with his problems. Everything was getting out of hand until Evie sat him down and gave him ‘the talk’. It was time for him to grow up, clean up and get real.

Jacob wasn’t even expecting to get the job. The interview at Starrick-Tech had gone pretty badly. Aside from the fact that he was heavily hungover, the man that interviewed him, Lewis, had been far from impressed with Jacob's credentials. But either way, they had an opening for him. He was starting at the very bottom but Jacob didn’t care. It was a job. At least he could contribute to the rent and get his sister off his back.

Starrick-Tech was mainly a software solutions company, but more recently they’d had huge success with their new smart phone device, the Eden. Everyone had one, including Jacob and Evie, and Jacob’s was buzzing right then in his pocket.

 **Evie:** _Good luck brother! Don’t get fired!_

 **Jacob:** _Ha!_ _Thanx_

 **Evie:** _Let me know what time you get off. I’ll order food to celebrate._

 **Jacob:** _As long as you're paying_

 **_Evie:_ ** _Charming! Oh, and Jacob…_

 **Jacob:** _Wot?_

 **Evie:** _Make sure your shirt is tucked in_

 **Jacob:** _F.U Evie!_

 

**____________________________________**

 

The inside of the building was huge, much larger than Jacob could remember from his interview.

From the airy and open reception area, his eyes were immediately drawn upward to the four floors that towered above. It was all very modern—glass windowed walkways, and sprawling open-plan offices filled with high-tech looking computers and equipment. Everything was white, and clean, and ordered, with the only exception being the massive chrome contemporary sculptures that hung down from the ceiling, and the equally gigantic Starrick-Teck logos adorning the walls and highly polished floors. And then there was the smell—somewhere between a disinfected hospital ward, and the smell of school on the first day back after the summer break. Clinical, with a tinge of ‘ _you’re here to work sonny, not to mess about’_ whispering through the cleanliness.

He sauntered over to the flustered looking man on reception, who was in the process of delicately balancing the switchboard phone between his ear and his shoulder while he frantically typed on the computer keyboard before him. Jacob glanced down at the man’s name tag.

_‘Aleck’._

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about him seemed vaguely familiar. They were roughly the same age, so that could’ve been it. Perhaps they’d been at the same college, or met at one of Rob Topping's wild parties. Jacob’s memory was too sketchy to pin him down.

He leant his elbows on the reception desk, fiddling with some pens and neatly stacked papers while he waited for Aleck to wind up the phone call.

“Of course, Mr. Starrick. It won’t happen again. You have my word on that, Sir.”

 _Starrick?_  Jacob’s ears pricked up. The elusive man himself?

Aleck appeared to cringe as he put down the phone, then he blew out his cheeks in a long sigh, rubbing circles into his temples as he turned to face the reception.

“Trouble at the top, Aleck?” Jacob winked, grinning over the desk at him.

“W-what? Oh, sorry. No—that was nothing. And you are…?” Aleck reached over and re-straightened the papers Jacob had messed up as he spoke, then proceeded to retrieve five of the six (soon to be stolen) Starrick-Tech engraved pens from Jacob's hand, and plopped them back in the Starrick-Tech logoed tumbler on the desk with a huff.

“Jacob Frye, reporting for duty. It’s my first day.” Jacob beamed and saluted in his usual cocksure way. Jacob wasn’t one to get nervous. He never had been.

“Ah, yes of course. If you could just sign in and follow me please.”

Jacob followed Aleck through the door behind the reception desk and into what seemed like an endless maze of dark corridors. Nothing like the light and bright entrance they were leaving behind. The thought briefly entered Jacob’s head that Aleck might be leading him straight out the back door. _‘No thank you, you’re not quite what we had in mind’._ Itcertainly wouldn't be the first time that had happened. But eventually _—_ and much to Jacob's relief _—_ they came to a stop in a small stuffy room that had two wooden benches in the centre, and row of worn-out looking lockers lining the far wall.

Aleck handed Jacob a key, along with a sickly green blazer and a tag with his name on. “Here you go. Your uniform and your locker.”

Jacob took the blazer, but held it firmly at arm’s length. It smelt as bad as it looked—if that was possible. The previous owner had obviously never heard of the concept of washing.

“Thanks—I think. But it’s not really my colour, Aleck. Got anything in blue? Or red?” Jacob cocked his head and flashed a cheeky grin, but his humour was clearly wasted on his current audience. Aleck’s eyebrows pulled together, and he started rubbing his temples again, as though Jacob had also asked him to hand-knit a jumper and hat to match while he was at it. Aleck certainly seemed one highly strung individual.

“Sadly, I’m not in control of these things. You’ll have to take it up with Lucy Thorne upstairs. But for now, I’m afraid that one will have to do.” With that, Aleck turned and swung open the door. “Come on, we must get going. I’ll introduce you to your colleagues.”

Back they went through the bowels of the building, until they came to a larger room filled with mailing sacks, franking machines and pigeon holes. The room was dire—like something out of one of those low budget horror movies that Rob Topping was always lending Jacob. Unlike the lashings of white paint used in the main building, here the colour of choice appeared to be the most depressing shade of dark brown known to man. It covered the walls, the doors, the storage cupboards—even the cold concrete floor had received a generous coating. Overhead, a single tube light flickered erratically, threatening its death at any moment, and judging by the sparse, sharp-edged furniture, the room was completely void of any comfort too. But at least it had a window—though that was its only saving grace.

“Here we are, Jacob—the mail room. Please meet Frederick Abberline and Ned Wynert. They’ll show you the ropes.” Aleck said quickly, already backing out of the door. “Apologies, I must return to the front desk. But good luck anyway, you’re probably going to need it!” And then he was gone, muttering something to himself as he hurried off down the corridor and disappeared from view.

Jacob dropped his bag on the nearest table and the two men came over to greet him. Freddy looked at least the same age as Jacob, roughly the same build, give or take an inch around the arms, and he had a thick mop of wavy brown hair that he kept worrying with his pencil. He seemed shy, Jacob thought, and had an innocence about him that made it look like he was about to apologise when he spoke. Ned couldn’t have been more different. He had about five or six years on Jacob and Freddy, and was slightly smaller in build. He came across as self-assured, almost cocky, but had a look in his eyes that conveyed wisdom well beyond his years. They seemed like good guys, which was a relief.

After the brief introduction, his new workmates filled him in. Jacob’s job was fairly standard. Each morning he would have to sort the post into the various pigeon holes, then he’d take his mail trolley and distribute the letters and parcels to the ‘higher-ups’ in the offices above. Mid-afternoon, he’d go around again and collect any outgoing mail throughout the building, and stamp it ready for the postal vans that would arrive to collect it a 4:30. It seemed easy enough. He could handle this.

Freddy dealt with the ground and first floor offices, Ned handled the second and third, and Jacob was charged with the executives on the top floor.

Jacob scanned his pigeon holes.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Crawford Starrick** **:** _Founder/Managing Director_

 **Lucy Thorne** **:** _Deputy Manager and Staff Co-Ordinator_

 **Maxwell Roth** **:** _Head of Marketing, and Public Relations_

 **David Brewster** **:** _Research and Software Development - Eden Division_

 **Rupert Ferris** **:** _Head of Manufacturing – Eden Division_

 **Pearl Attaway** **:** _Head of Distribution and International Sales_

 **Philip Twopenny** **:** _Finance and Payroll_

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

“ _Crawford Starrick?”_ Jacob wiggled his eyebrows and grinned at his two new colleagues. He knew what Starrick looked like, but only from watching YouTube videos of him launching the Eden at an electronics expo the year before. He never expected to actually  _meet_ him while working at Starrick-Tech. “You’re trusting me with _his_ post on my first day?” Jacob fully expected them to grin back, but neither of them did.

“My advice would be to keep your head down up there, Jacob. Be polite and get out. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.” Ned warned, and even though they'd only just met, Jacob could see that he was deadly serious.

“And not just with Starrick either.” Freddy piped up, then shrank back to what he was doing.

“Oh come on! Seriously, Freddy?” Jacob smirked, but he seemed to be laughing alone.

“It's Frederick...and yes, seriously. The two people to have the job before you lasted less than a week.” Freddy said quickly, then hid back behind his divider.

“A week you say?” Jacob chewed on the inside of his cheek, and glanced back at the pigeon holes, eyeing the task that lay before him. It couldn’t be that bad, surely. All he had to do was hand people their post. Besides, that sounded like a challenge and Jacob had never been one to turn down one of those..

“Tell you what,” Jacob turned to Ned and stretched out his hand, “Let’s say that if I’m still here on Friday, you both get to buy me a drink at the bar after work.”

Ned considered him for a few moments, mouth crooked into a bemused half-smile—not that dissimilar to the kind Jacob received from Evie on a near daily basis—then, after a quick nod to Freddy, Ned started laughing and stepped forwards.

“Ok Frye, you’re on.” Ned gripped Jacob's hand and shook it robustly, not looking entirely convinced, but clearly impressed by Jacob’s confidence.

“Freddy?” Jacob marched over to him and held out his hand.

“Whatever.” Freddy took it and quickly shook it….and Jacob could’ve sworn he saw him blush a little when he did so.

**____________________________________**

 

After borrowing—taking without asking—a quick squirt of Freddy’s body spray to make his blazer smell sweeter, Jacob set off with his trolley, through the dark corridors and back towards the reception to use the lifts to get to the top floor. He took a deep breath and sucked in the fresher air—it was a relief to be back out in the bright and airy entrance hall after being stuck in the dingy backrooms for so long.

He pressed the button for the lift and waited, whistling to himself as he nodded over to Aleck. Aleck ignored him, so Jacob whistled louder until he was rewarded by a stern frown, a shake of the head, and huff of despair from the disapproving Scotsman.

Jacob chuckled in triumph. Aleck would come round, once he got to know him…

The lift arrived and the doors slid open. Jacob shoved his trolley into the narrow space and pressed for the top floor, but just as he did so, a voice called out to him from across the other side of the entrance hall.

“Wait! Hold the lift!”

Jacob lurched across and fumbled with the buttons to stop the door from closing, allowing for a tall, slim man to step inside. There was barely room for the two of them and the large trolley, but Jacob huddled himself into the corner and the man squeezed in and leant against the back wall.

“Going up?” Jacob reached to hover his fingers over the buttons and felt the handle of his trolley jab uncomfortably into his bladder. _Damn._ Now he regretted gulping down that welcome Coke Ned had given him back in the mailroom.

“Well, obviously.” Came the stranger’s curt and mildly sarcastic reply. Without looking up from his Eden, his hand swept toward the reception desk as if to emphasize the fact that they were clearly on the ground floor—they could hardly go down.

Jacob cringed.

“Top floor.” The man said, monotone and disinterested.

Jacob cringed again, doubly as hard. _Top floor. His floor. An executive. Great start._

“Right you are then. I’m going that way myself as it happens.” Jacob fudged his thumb on the top button and leant back into the corner. The door closed with a ding and the lift lurched into life, and the man went back to reading something on his Eden, apparently much too busy with ‘executive’ things to acknowledge Jacob any further.

Jacob reigned in the urge to say something else and took out the Starrick-Tech leaflet that Aleck handed him when he arrived, pretending to educate himself with the company's history while he discreetly looked at the man through the corner of his eye.

The executive was dressed smartly in an expensive looking black pinstripe suit with matching waistcoat, and wore a red silk tie that added a much-needed splash of colour to his pale complexion. His dark brown, almost black hair was cut short at the sides and slicked back on top, and he had a neat, perfectly trimmed moustache that complimented his chiselled features. He was handsome, but not in the conventional sense, and he was clearly older than Jacob, though not that much. Maybe about thirty, maybe more, maybe less, it was hard to tell. But there was something about him. Something intriguing. Oh, and his aftershave smelled great too—definitely designer. Sharp and expensive and fresh. Fresher than Jacob’s current jumble of smells anyway.

Before Jacob managed to tear his eyes away, the man seemed to sense Jacob looking at him and glanced up from his Eden—somehow managing to both paralyse and pin Jacob to the wall with the most piercing pair of pale-green eyes that Jacob had ever seen in his life.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” The man's voice was deep and coarse and grated in his throat. But there was a power behind it that demanded attention, and it certainly had Jacob’s.

“Yep, first day.” Jacob swallowed and offered him a smile, suddenly feeling less cocksure than he usually did. The man’s expression stayed flat. He nodded once and returned to his Eden.

The lift arrived at the top floor and the doors slid open. Jacob took his second deep breath of the day, and gripped his trolley handle, preparing himself for the challenge that lay ahead. He had a bet to win after all—and there was no way he was losing it. He went to take a step forward, but stopped himself short, remembering what Ned and Freddy had said about the top floor—' _Be polite and get out'._  He glanced back at the other man, still engrossed with scrolling through something on his screen. Probably safer to let _him_ leave the lift first, rather than Jacob barging forward with the trolley and running over a bloody executive's foot on his first day.

So, Jacob waited. And then waited some more. But the man didn't move. Instead, he glanced back up from his Eden and over at Jacob again, his sharp eyes lingering, just briefly, before trailing down onto Jacob's name tag. Then slowly, calmly, he held out his hand toward the doorway.

“After you....Jacob.”

Jacob didn’t instantly realise that his feet had become welded to the spot. Nor did he realise that his mouth had fallen open—at least not until the man glanced down at it, curiously tipping his head to the side—at which point Jacob snapped his jaw shut, bundled himself together and stumbled forward, noisily banging and scrapping the trolley along the walls as he bumbled out of the lift and into the corridor.

For some reason that he couldn’t explain, Jacob’s heart was racing. His head was spinning, his mind uncharacteristically blank as he hurried around the corner and out of sight. 

And in that moment, for the very first time in his whole entire life, Jacob Frye finally understood what it felt like to be rendered speechless.

**____________________________________**

 

It hadn’t been half as bad as Ned and Freddy made out. Jacob couldn’t even see what all the fuss was about. He knocked on each of the doors, waited to be invited in, then placed the post on each of the executive’s desks and left without speaking, with most of them not even bothering to acknowledge him. When he finally got to Crawford Starrick’s office, he was met with a disapproving glance at the mud stains on his trousers, but still no acknowledgement of sorts. If he carried on like this, he’d be drinking Ned and Freddy under the table on Friday night.

It was all quite routine really. Boring even. In fact, Jacob began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. If this was all he’d be doing, day in, day out, then it would drive him mad. He’d never been one to stick to the same thing for long. Maybe he should look for another job. Something a bit more exciting.

Finally, he came to the last door of the morning. He glanced at his watch. 11:38. Get this last one over with, then it was back down to the mailroom for his lunch break—and hopefully, a few laughs with Ned and Freddy to lift his spirits too. Pull Freddy's leg a bit maybe.

Jacob took one last glance down to check that the name on the post matched with the one on the door before knocking, just like he had for all of the others. It did. Maxwell Roth.

“Come in.” The voice was familiar. Gravelly and rough.

Jacob slid around the door and made his way towards the man sitting behind his desk in the centre of the room. Half way there, he smelled the expensive aftershave again, a few steps more, and the penny dropped.

This was the office of the man from the lift.

_Shit!_

Jacob rubbed the back of his neck as he approached, fully expecting some smart, sarcastic comment about the damage his trolley had done to the paintwork in the lift or something. But just like all of the other executives that morning, Maxwell didn’t look up or greet him in any way. Instead, he carried on typing at his computer, deeply absorbed in whatever he was doing.

Jacob blew out a silent sigh of relief, placed down the post on the corner of the desk, and returned to the door to leave. But just as he was closing it, the man spoke.

“Thank you, Jacob.”

Jacob's stomach lurched. He swung round to look at Maxwell, not sure what to expect, but Maxwell carried on typing, expressionless, keeping his eyes firmly locked on his computer screen.

Jacob hesitated, debating whether he should say something back, but opted to play it safe—Ned and Freddy’s warning chiming once again in his mind. Instead, he closed the door with a soft click and retrieved his trolley in the hallway, but somehow couldn’t help the smile that stretched wide across his face on the way back to the lift. His heart gave a little flutter, and a strange warmth filled his chest and rose up to his cheeks. 

The man had remembered his name, and for some reason, that made him feel slightly giddy.

Jacob took a few more steps, then turned and glanced back at the name on the office door one last time.

Maxwell Roth.

Maybe working here wouldn’t be so bad after all.                                                        

 


	2. Brought to Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob finds an interesting way of making his job more enjoyable and looks like winning his bet with Ned and Freddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's chapter 2! I'm trying to add a bit of humour in this fic - I hope that comes across..
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I really appreciate your feedback :)

** Chapter 2 - Brought to Life **

“You’re keen!” Evie discreetly glanced down at her watch. She couldn't remember a time when she'd seen her brother looking so clean and smart—or so eager to leave the house without dragging his feet for that matter. He’d even washed his hair. It was a rare sight.

“Just trying to make a good impression, dear sister.” Jacob leant down, and Evie was thankful to note that he was taking her earlier advice by tucking his trousers into his socks. No mud splashes for Crawford Starrick to disapprove of today, although she'd still prefer him to take the bus and not his rickety old bike. Or better yet, actually learn to drive.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.” Evie nudged him and got up to wash the breakfast pots. If she didn’t, they’d still be sat in the kitchen when she got home from work —and by that time, Jacob’s porridge would be so welded onto his dish that it would be easier to throw it away than attempt to scrape it off.

“Have a good…” Evie glanced back toward the lounge, but Jacob had already left. She shrugged. Something was different about him, but she wasn’t about to question his new found enthusiasm. Things hadn’t been easy between the twins since their father died, and for a while, Jacob had spiralled head first down the path of self-destruction. But things had been looking up since she’d convinced him to move to London, and to be fair, Jacob seemed to be making a genuine effort to sort his life out.

Despite her and Henry only moving in to their west-end townhouse together six months earlier, they’d both agreed that Jacob should stay in the spare room until he got back on his feet—provided he got a job and paid something toward the rent. It wasn’t ideal for Jacob, but at least he had somewhere to stay and she knew he was safe. After everything that had happened, she sometimes questioned why she still stood by him…but she did. And she always would. They were the only family each other had now.

“Has Jacob left already?” Henry appeared in the doorway, shrugging on his coat. Evie turned, and was met with one of his warm and steady smiles—the kind that still had the power to melt her heart, even after almost three years together.

“He has indeed. Can you believe it? My brother making an effort to be punctual?”

Henry chuckled and grabbed his car keys off the hook by the fridge. “It seems like his new job is doing him good. Are you ready to set off?”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Evie balanced the breakfast pots on the drainer and grabbed her laptop. Today was a big day for her. She had four schools coming to the National History museum for a lecture about the new collection of ancient artifacts that the museum had on display. It was the biggest exhibition tour that Evie had organised yet, and she was feeling more than a little nervous. It was days like this that she wished she worked with Henry, down in the research and archives department. But no, educating others about those that had come before was her passion, a trait she’d inherited from her father. It was something that always seemed to amuse her brother – ‘ _Evie and lectures_ , a _match made in heaven’_ , he’d always quip. And for once, he was probably right.

\-------------------------------

Jacob needn’t have bothered tucking his trousers into his socks. The early morning rain had passed, and the sun had already got to work drying up the worst offending puddles from yesterday.

The house was around a thirty minute cycle to Starrick-Tech. Well, probably forty if you adhered to the laws of the road, but Jacob was never one to follow rules, much preferring to mount pavements, cut through red lights and zip through parks and public walkways to get where he was going. And sure enough, he arrived early and leant his bike in the bike park, just like he had yesterday. With ten minutes to kill, he briefly thought about going straight in—the temptation to pass the time by annoying Aleck on reception was certainly strong, but instead, Jacob gave in to his ever-present craving for a cigarette and decided to have a quick smoke first. He knew he shouldn’t—he’d promised Evie that he’d quit, so this one had to be the last one. Definitely. Probably.

Jacob took a few drags and flopped back against the wall, casting a half-arsed glance across Starrick-Tech's large, almost full carpark that sprawled out before him. There were seven reserved parking spots at the front of the building. One for Crawford Starrick, and one for each of his executives and their company cars. Six of the spots were already filled and it didn’t take a genius to work out which car was Starrick’s – the biggest and the flashiest, of course. The others were still pretty nice….just plainly, (and no doubt deliberately) the next models down from his behemoth. Starrick obviously wasn’t a man who liked to be outdone.

Jacob took one last, long drag on his cigarette, then crushed the end under his shoe. In the distance he could see someone cycling towards him, wobbling a bit while trying to navigate the steep hill. Whoever it was, they certainly looked the part with their fancy knee pads and matching cycle helmet—even if it did look a couple of sizes too big. Jacob shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted, and then started laughing to himself. It was Freddy—clearly in too high a gear, and clearly close to passing out.

“Good morning, Freddy!” Jacob beamed, watching with amusement as Freddy carefully steered around the concrete bollards, and screeched to a stop beside him.

“Oh, it’s you.” Freddy wheezed, face bright red and blotchy, looking anywhere but at Jacob as he peeled off his cycling gloves and removed his helmet, leaving his sweat-soaked hair in a perfect mold of it as he did so.

“Nice set of wheels you’ve got there, Freddy.” Jacob gawped down at the bike, inwardly congratulating himself for resisting a joke about Freddy’s ‘helmet hair’ as he crouched to take a closer look at the frame. “Very impressive.” He observed, blowing out an approving whistle. The bike was gorgeous—a twenty one gear, electric blue, carbon fibre mountain bike with all the trimmings. High-tech suspension, hydraulic disc brakes—the bike had the lot. Jacob even wondered if it had a heated seat. Unlike Jacob’s bike, this was flawless, and was clearly as new to Freddy as Freddy was to riding a bike.

“Er…oh, thanks. A birthday present from my parents.” Freddy leant down and secured it to the bike rack, wrapping the cable of his chain lock around the front wheel more times than was probably necessary. Freddy Abberline certainly appeared to be a worrier.

Freddy glanced across at Jacob’s rusty bike, thrown roughly into place in the rack beside his. 

“No padlock?”

“Nah, I’m very trusting Freddy. Besides, they wouldn’t get very far if anyone stole it. It’s a bit special, my bike. You have to treat it gently. With respect.” Jacob gave the worn seat a loving stroke.

“Oh?” Freddy lifted an eyebrow.

“It goes plenty fast enough, but you have to know what you’re doing and how far you can push it, Freddy. _Smoothly_ slip your fingers through the gears. Build up your pace, _slow_ and _steady_. Work up a nice rhythm. Don’t rush things. Ride it too hard and the chain will be off, sending you head over arse and making out with the pavement.”

“I see.” Freddy offered him a half-smile, which quickly descended into a confused frown, then he glanced down at his feet and seemed to blush.

_Oh._

Jacob looked the other way and cringed, instantly realising what he’d just said (and the questionable hand and hip gestures he was making while he said it...). He meant the bike. _Of course_ _he meant the bloody bike, Freddy._

Freddy coughed and opted to change the subject. “Anyway, we’d better get going. It’s almost nine.” He shuffled to the side, still avoiding eye contact as he turned to enter the building.

“Hang on…” Jacob grabbed Freddy’s sleeve and stopped him. A car was approaching. An expensive looking car—just like the ones parked in the reserved spots. Sure enough, it swung round and pulled in to the last of the spaces at the front of the building. Both of them watched as a tall man got out and retrieved his briefcase from the back seat, then flipped the end of his cigarette to the floor and strolled towards them at the main entrance.

“Filthy habit, smoking.” Freddy mumbled under his breath.

“Oh, absolutely.” Jacob agreed, and quickly concealed the remains of his own cigarette butt beneath his shoe. Thank God Freddy wasn’t there moments earlier while _he_ was puffing away like a chimney.

As the man got closer, Jacob’s suspicions were confirmed. It was the man from yesterday. The man that remembered Jacob’s name. It was Maxwell Roth.

Jacob slid his hands in his pockets and casually dropped back against wall of the building while Maxwell walked by, half preparing himself for the possibility of an acknowledgment, but Maxwell didn’t look over. He was already busy on his Eden, brow deeply furrowed while he flipped through what Jacob presumed to be pages of unread emails and boring memos—whatever it was, Maxwell certainly didn't look all that enthused to be reading it.

Jacob continued to watch through the grand glass entrance doors as Maxwell walked over to the reception desk, scanned himself in and then moved over to the lift area, never once removing himself from the task of attending to his Eden—which was probably just as well, because Jacob was struggling to keep his eyes off him. Locked on and caught in his tractor beam – something that didn’t go unnoticed by his co-worker who was getting increasingly fidgety by the side of him.

“Earth to Jacob!” Freddy nudged him in the arm. “Don’t you think we ought to sign in?”

“W-what? Oh…right. Come on then.”

"Are you sure you're alright?" Freddy asked, suspicious, narrowing his eyes.

"Course! Never better." Jacob nudged him back, ignoring Freddy's tone. “Go on, Freddy. I wouldn’t want you to get a late stamp on your card.”

Maxwell Roth.

\-------------------------------

The next two days were carbon copies of each other. Sort the post. Deliver the post. Have lunch. Collect the post. Stamp the post. Go home. It was pretty dull and mind-numbing to someone like Jacob who was so used to being free and unrestricted. He couldn’t understand why people even used the postal service anymore. Everyone had internet, email and Edens. It all seemed so archaic, but as Ned kept reminding him, Starrick was old school and liked to leave a paper trail—despite being the head of a software empire.

It was difficult to adjust to being in such a rigid routine, but by Thursday, Jacob was finding ways to make it all worthwhile. Getting to work at the same time as Maxwell, just to catch a glimpse. Going for his coffee breaks when Maxwell took his—and of course, there was always the hope of those three little words again:

“Thank you, Jacob.”

He didn’t know why he craved the acknowledgement so much. Jacob knew absolutely nothing about the man, but something about hearing Maxwell say his name made Jacob's stomach flip—like when he went over a speed bump too fast on his bike, or almost fell downstairs but caught himself just in time. A lurch, followed by a light flutter, followed by a strange and compelling need to feel the thrill of it all again.

And to be fair, it made a nice change to be thanked for something. Whenever Jacob heard his name these days, he was usually in some sort of trouble— he’d either done something wrong, or was about to. But this was different, and whatever it was about Maxwell thanking him, Jacob liked it.

_He liked it a lot._

Jacob had been deliberately leaving Maxwell’s morning and evening post until last each day. It gave him something to look forward to while he trudged through the other offices getting ignored. And today was no different—met with the usual cold, stony faces and the occasional look of disapproval thrown in for variety. For a moment, he thought he’d got a smile from Pearl Attaway as he handed her post over, but he couldn’t be sure. She was rubbing her stomach at the time so it could’ve just been the grimace of indigestion from Agnes’s grease filled breakfast menu down at the canteen, who knows.

And while it was only his fourth day in the job, Jacob had also come to realise that Crawford Starrick hated him. No words had passed between them, but he could sense it as soon as he entered his office. It oozed out of him. Every single pore leaked his intolerance.

“It’s nothing personal. Starrick hates everyone.” Ned had told him.

“But he hasn’t even spoken to me!”

“And if I were you, I’d keep it that way!” You could always count on Freddy to whip out a warning.

“Oh, _Freddy,_ " Jacob ruffled Freddy's hair. “You really should join the police force with that cautious outlook of yours.”

\-------------------------------

Maxwell only had one parcel that day, and when Jacob finally reached his office, he lingered outside for a few moments before knocking. He’d been feeling odd as he got nearer to the door. Hot, and lightheaded, shaky even. And he’d felt the same way yesterday too. Maybe he was coming down with something. Henry had been coughing and snivelling over him a couple of nights ago, he’d probably passed his germs on. That must be it—he'd caught Greenie’s greenies. Great. 

Jacob parked up his trolley and turned, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the glass window opposite—not entirely prepared for the sight that stared back at him. _Shit._ He looked ridiculous. One hand wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers, the other stuffed in his mouth while he chewed on his nails.

He actually looked _nervous_. And Jacob never got nervous. Ever.

“Jacob Frye, what the hell is wrong with you. Pull yourself together.” He mumbled through his teeth, giving himself a firm slap on the cheek. He was sounding more like his sister every day.

He swallowed, then knocked.

“Come in.”

Jacob blew out his cheeks, then inched the door open and entered. Maxwell was stood with his sleeves rolled up, pouring over what looked like several large glossy adverts that were spread around him on his desk and on the floor. And judging by the scowl on his face, he didn’t seem pleased with any of them. He was wearing a pair of black rimmed reading glasses, perched half-way down his nose. They suited him, Jacob noticed. Framed his face nicely. Made him look suave, and sophisticated, and sexy and— _oh God, staring._ Jacob jerked his head down and glared at the floor instead, (which, incidentally, needed a good vacuuming), but it was too late—he could already feel the heat creeping across his cheeks. Great. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Another man was sat in the corner of the office reviewing a handful of smaller, magazine sized prints. He looked equally as unhappy with them as Maxwell did. Jacob recognised him immediately—it was the man from his interview. Lucas? Lenny? Larry?

“Absolutely none of them are right, Lewis. All terribly dull. The model is all wrong for a start. We need someone more….”

As Jacob approached, Maxwell stopped talking and glanced up at him. Only briefly, but long enough for Jacob to feel the spark behind the man's eyes when they caught with his own. It hit him like lightening—a shock waves of tingles that caught his breath and raced through every vein in his body. And just like that, the feeling from the hallway was well and truly back, and Jacob's stomach was flipping and lurching all over the place.

“Ah, wonderful!” Maxwell nodded to the cabinet beside him for Jacob to place the parcel down on. “I’ve been waiting for that. Thank you, Jacob.”

And there it was.

Those three little words, and a few others besides.

Jacob couldn’t seem to stop the sheepish grin from breaking out across his face. And he kept grinning all the way back to the door, but thankfully, Maxwell had already returned his focus back to the posters and was too engrossed to notice.

Lewis, however, _did_ notice, and kept a curious eye on Jacob as he left. 

 

“I see you’ve met Jacob Frye then?” Lewis asked under his breath, once he was out of earshot.

“Interesting boy, Lewis.” Maxwell looked up over his glasses. " _Very_ interesting indeed."

\-------------------------------

 

Jacob closed the door and slumped against it. What the hell had just happened? He'd been in there less than a minute and now look at him. He glanced across at his reflection again and was mortified by what he saw. Back streaming with sweat, cheeks bright red, and now his heart was pounding so hard that he was beginning to feel dizzy. He needed some air, or a cigarette. Probably both. There was no way he was going down to Ned and Freddy looking like this.

A quick glance down the corridor revealed two options. A door marked ‘stationery’ and a fire exit. Fire exit it was then—probably best not to smoke in a room full of paper and flammable objects. He’d tried that once in college and a steep bill from the Principal to replace the stock was enough to stop him trying it again. Who knew there’d be sprinklers in a stationery cupboard anyway?

Jacob edged outside onto the small balcony and dug into his pocket to retrieve his lighter, reminding himself that this was definitely his last cigarette. 100% last one.

Most of the offices overlooked the courtyard that the fire escape led out to, and thanks to his hideous snot-green blazer, Jacob was clearly visible for all to see, but he only needed a few minutes to compose himself—five tops. It was worth the risk. He sat on the top step of the metal stairs and took a few deep breaths, and then a few puffs on his smoke, raking his hand through his hair as he swore at himself again. He _had_ to stop getting like this. Maxwell was going to notice.

Jacob stayed for a couple more minutes, tempted to light another smoke, (the last one, of course) but he knew he'd be pushing his luck. This was _not_ the floor to get caught doing something you shouldn’t on. He hadn’t forgotten Ned and Freddy’s warning from his first day. So, he tentatively checked the coast was clear through the window, then inched opened the fire door and stepped back inside. But just as he retrieved his post trolley and pushed it toward the lifts, he noticed that he could hear raised voices coming from Maxwell’s office.

He could just about make out Maxwell’s coarse voice, he could hardly miss it, but the other voice was unfamiliar. Jacob leant against the wall while he waited for the lift to arrive, and tried to listen through the thin partition. The voices were strained and seemed to be getting louder and more aggressive, until Maxwell’s door suddenly swung open, and the handle slammed hard into the office wall. A millisecond later, out marched a red-faced, livid looking Crawford Starrick, carrying a fistful of the posters Jacob had just seen in Maxwell’s office.

Jacob held his breath. For a split second, Starrick seemed to spot him and it looked like he was going to come over—and judging by the look on his face, he certainly wasn’t coming over to say hello or talk about the nice weather they’d been having… _Shit._

*Ding*

The lift arrived and Jacob dived inside.

Saved by the bell.

\-------------------------------

 

Ned and Freddy were already waiting for him when Jacob finally made it back down to the post room for his lunch break.

“What took you so long?” Ned seemed agitated, rubbing his chin as he glanced up at the clock. Maybe he could smell the cigarette smoke. Jacob made a mental note to bring some mints with him tomorrow. Not that he'd need them—he'd given up now. 

“Nothing—just doing my job.” Jacob grinned and did his best to look innocent, but now Freddy was frowning too. “Why? What’s wrong with you two? You’ve both got a face like a smacked arse!”

“Lucy Thorne was down here doing inspections. She wasn’t impressed that you hadn’t got back yet.” Ned gave him a suspicious look over the rim of his glasses as he slowly zipped his jacket and joined Jacob at the door.

“We thought you’d got into some kind of trouble.” Freddy chipped in, knitting his eyebrows together some more as he slipped his bag strap onto his narrow shoulders, and switched off the franking machines for the lunch break. “Thought you’d upset one of the—”

“Aw, come on, Freddy—” Jacob butted in before he could finish, half worried that Freddy might mention Maxwell's name, and equally as worried that he wouldn’t be able to hide his reaction if he did, especially with Ned still looking unconvinced by his explanation. “That’s very sweet of you to care, but you won’t get rid of me that easily. Besides, there’s that small matter of our bet. You do realise that by five o’clock tomorrow you’ll have to get your wallets out, don’t you boys?”

Both Ned and Freddy went to speak, but Jacob muscled between them and slung his arms around each of their shoulders, marching them out the door and down toward the canteen.

 “And I hope you’ve been saving up. I’m likely to be thirsty!” Jacob rubbed down hard on each of their heads with his fists. Freddy yelped, and Ned thump him in the arm, before the three of them fell about laughing.

\-------------------------------

 

Above them, on the glass walkway on the top floor, Maxwell watched as the three new found friends passed beneath him. Or more accurately, he watched Jacob. He hadn’t meant to—he was late for another dreary, soul destroying meeting with Starrick, but there was something fascinating about Jacob that had Maxwell stopping in his tracks. Something different. Something unique that Jacob probably wasn’t even aware of himself. It interested him. He'd noticed it the first time they'd met in the lift on Monday. And Maxwell hadn’t been blind, he may not have acknowledged it, but he’d noticed Jacob looking at him too. In the mornings when he got to work…when he took his breaks…it was all quite curious. Curious how Jacob seemed to contradict himself—boastful around his friends and bashful around him. Maxwell liked curious things. They added colour and spice to the dullness of the world that surrounded him.

Maxwell was bored with his life, bored with his job and bored with being ordered around by Crawford Starrick. And yet Jacob seemed like a breath of fresh air. Or more precisely, Jacob breathed new life into _him_. Awakened a long extinguished flame. But the boy was wasted down there in the post room. He looked like a young man of many talents, he was just a bit rough around the edges, that’s all—needed guidance perhaps.

And then Maxwell realised he had just the thing for him.

 


	3. No Smoke Without Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's chapter 3! Sorry for taking so long - intermittent internet! The joys of living in a tiny english village and having a new broadband provider!  
> A little warning for swears in this chapter *Tuts at self* 
> 
> Anyhow, hope you like it —quite a lot happens..
> 
> PS- I have an outline sorted now, so updates will be more hopefully be more frequent.

** Chapter 3 - No Smoke Without Fire **

Friday morning’s post deliveries were boring. In fact, Starrick-Tech was practically deserted. Most of the mid and upper-level staff were attending various training courses and lectures in the conference rooms on the ground floor, while Maxwell and the other execs were in back-to-back meetings, leaving Jacob to contend with Lewis instead—who was still as unimpressed with Jacob now, as he'd been on the day he’d interviewed him.

Once he’d handed over Maxwell’s post, Jacob closed the door and glanced over to the fire exit, and then down at his watch. Having fewer Maxwell based distractions meant he’d finished early. Twenty whole minutes to spare—one quick cigarette wouldn’t hurt. And besides, there was no-one around to catch him today. He’d gotten away with it yesterday, but he wasn’t going to make a habit of it—much like his smoking. This was definitely the last one. No question.

Jacob pretended to look busy, leaning down to fiddle with the brakes on his trolley while Pearl Attaway's secretary finished pinning something on the nearby notice board, then once the coast was clear, he slipped out onto the fire escape, leaving the door slightly ajar in case he needed to make a speedy retreat.

Immediately, the warmth hit him. It was a gorgeous day. The long, unbroken rays of the late summer sun basked down onto the enclosed courtyard below, casting a soft glow onto the harsh, unfriendly edges of the building. In the distance, a faint swishing washed out the sounds of the traffic around the business park as the light balmy breeze tussled and toyed with the leaves in the nearby trees. Jacob closed his eyes and leant back against the brickwork, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth as it heated his cheeks. He loved this time of year. Warm golden days followed by long enchanted nights. It reminded him of his childhood back in Crawley—staying out all hours and getting up to no good, much to his sister's annoyance.

He slipped a cigarette between his lips and fumbled around in his trouser pockets, then his back pocket, then his jacket pockets, then his shirt pocket….no lighter. It must’ve been in his messenger bag. In his locker. Four floors down.

Great. _Jacob, you tit._ _What an absolute fu—_

“Need a light?”

Jacob whirled around, and only just stifled a yelp when he saw Maxwell standing beside him, casually leaning on the railings. _Oh shit._ Jacob’s stomach dived. He snatched the cigarette from his mouth and hid it behind his back.  _Caught._ And of all the people to be caught by, why did it have to be _him_? This was it. The moment he got fired. And he was so close to winning the bet with the lads too. Instead, he was about to become a member of Freddy’s fabled ‘one week’ club.

Jacob winced a smile, shuffling uncomfortably as he cleared his throat—which wasn't easy considering how dry it had become in the few seconds that Maxwell had been standing there—and then he waited for the inevitable. Then waited a few seconds more, but Maxwell didn’t say anything. And then it dawned on Jacob that Maxwell wasn’t angry. He was smiling, no, _grinning_ at him sharply—a flash of dazzling white teeth and those pale green eyes glinting in wicked amusement. Maxwell was obviously highly entertained by the situation...and clearly still waiting for his answer.

Unsure of what else he could do, Jacob nodded cautiously, and slipped his cigarette back between his lips, swiftly returning his hand behind his back to hide the fact that it was shaking.

Without a word, Maxwell slid his long fingers into his waistcoat pocket and produced his lighter, then slowly leant in close, just inches away, and cupped his hands around the end of the cigarette in Jacob’s mouth, shielding it from the breeze while he flicked the flame into life. And then it happened again. Just briefy, Maxwell glanced up from under his eyebrows and that smile reappeared, that flash of danger and those devastating eyes—burning straight through Jacob like a laser.

_Oh no._

Jacob froze. Instantly, his blood started rushing, and the strong metal walkway that held them both began to feel like it was melting away beneath his feet. He leant back against the building for support, fingers splayed rigid on the brickwork to try and hold himself up. Maxwell was too close. _Much_ too close. And for those few short moments Jacob’s vision was entirely filled with Maxwell Roth. Every last inch of him. Every thread of cotton on his luxurious shirt, every strand of his perfectly groomed hair. When Jacob breathed, he breathed in Maxwell’s intoxicating aftershave. When Maxwell smiled again, Jacob’s eyes drew to the curve of his inviting lips, traced the strong line of Maxwell’s jaw, followed the solid outline of his muscles showing through his tight tailored suit, lower and lower until…until… _oh God._ Stop looking. Stop staring! _Stop blushing!_

“There you go.” Maxwell pulled back, nodding in triumph as he took out his own cigarettes and lit one for himself. He resumed leaning on the railings, leaving Jacob still clinging to the wall and sucking in discrete, shallow half-breaths while he struggled to compose himself.

“Thanks.” Jacob eventually managed to blurt, in a much higher pitch than he'd have liked. He fixed his eyes on the courtyard below, choking on his first drag and somehow forgetting how to breathe in, breathe out and smoke all at the same time. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. But it was. _It really was_. And if he didn’t pull himself together soon, Maxwell was going to notice.

“It looks like we share the same guilty pleasure then, Jacob.”

"What's that?" Jacob snapped back to face him. Maxwell's head was cocked, intense eyes fixed on Jacob again while he took a slow drag on his cigarette.

 _His cigarette. The smoking. He means the smoking._ What else could he mean? That he also shared Jacob’s wild thoughts of ripping each other’s clothes off and giving the office workers a little X-rated show from across the balcony? Hardly. Regardless of Maxwell's apparent good mood, Jacob had still been caught taking an unauthorised smoking break, on the top floor, and by a bloody executive. The odds of him keeping his job weren't exactly stacked in his favour.

He could practically hear Freddy saying ‘ _I told you so’._

Time to try and save himself.

“Look—umm—about that…I’m sorry, Mr. Roth, I probably shouldn’t have—”

“Jacob, _relax._ I come out here all the time. It’s one of the few highlights of my day in this dreadful place.” Maxwell's top lip curled, and he nodded towards Starrick’s office across the windowed courtyard, flicking his ash over the side of the railings with a frown.

“It’s nice to have some company.” He turned back to look at Jacob, his mouth softening into a hint of a smile again. “And please, call me Maxwell. I don't go in for all that formal crap.”

Jacob swallowed hard and nodded. He was relieved to be keeping his job, but still wasn't  entirely sure how to handle the fact that he was stood talking to Maxwell Roth—the man he'd been practically stalking for the last few days. 

“So, how are you finding working at Starrick-Tech, Jacob?”

“Yeah—I mean—well, it’s—yeah, it’s fine.”

Maxwell threw back his head and roared with laughter. “As good as all that, eh?”

Maxwell’s laugh was even coarser than his voice, if that was possible. It was a miracle it didn’t cut his throat to ribbons. Maybe it was all those cigarettes, Jacob wondered. Another reason why this was definitely, absolutely and categorically his last smoke. He was quitting. Right here, right now.

But roughness aside, when he laughed, Maxwell changed. His shoulders dropped and his face softened and became less stern looking, losing the edginess in his eyes. It suited him, and the fact that it was Jacob that caused him to laugh somehow made the sight all the more sweeter.

“Well, it’s a job. It gets my sister off my case.” Jacob chuckled back. He gazed over at Maxwell and felt his body relax slightly—probably from the nicotine calming his nerves. Probably.

Maxwell shrugged in agreement, then took another drag of his cigarette, slowly breathing out the smoke in a neat, steady stream to the side. His smile faded and he turned to look out across the courtyard again, drumming his fingers on the railings, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. 

“Have you ever considered modelling, Jacob?”

" _Modelling?_ " Jacob spluttered, coughing out his smoke _much_ less elegantly than Maxwell just had. “S-sorry, what?”

“Forgive me,” Maxwell held up his hands. "Let me explain. I’m in charge of marketing here and I’ve been designing the ad campaign for the new Eden tablet that launches late autumn. I’ve done my best, but quite frankly, the male model that Starrick supplied is shit. Too pretentious, too smug and too boring. He’s not _real_ enough.” Maxwell returned his gaze to Jacob, and his heavy eyes trailed down onto his chest, then back up to look straight at him, slow and deliberate. 

Tingles crept up Jacob’s spine and he shivered. God, Maxwell Roth was intense. And sexy. And _hot._

“I need someone who’s more rugged and less clean looking. Handsome, and rough around the edges. Someone more believable. Gritty. Someone more like, well... _you,_ Jacob."

Like him?

And handsome.

Maxwell just said _handsome._

Jacob opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Speechless—twice in one week. All because of Maxwell Roth. This was ridiculous.

Maxwell seemed to notice his hesitation. “All meant as a compliment, of course, Jacob.” His hand flew up again, apologetic. "But honestly, I think you'd be perfect for it."

And there it was again, that familiar flush of heat crawling up Jacob’s cheeks and burning into his ears. Perfect timing. Absolutely wonderful. Jacob huffed a laugh, trying to shrug off the compliment, and slid a finger beneath his shirt collar, discreetly peeling it from the back of his sweat-soaked neck while he tried to process what Maxwell was saying.

A model. With his face full of scruff and scars, and a tattooed body to match?

“Well, I guess I could—“

“Tell you what, Jacob, don’t answer now." Maxwell took a final drag, then turned toward the door. "Have a think about it. I have a meeting with Starrick this afternoon. I’ve got to talk the dull bastard round first. Leave it with me.” And with that, Maxwell winked at Jacob, flipped the end of his cigarette over the side of the railings and left through the fire exit.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

“Well lads, just one hour to go and you’ll be getting those drinks in!” Jacob rocked back on his chair, his hands behind his head and his feet on the desk, completely ignoring the fact that he still had letters and parcels to stamp (and also ignoring the health and safety sign behind him that advised against such chair acrobatics). After the exchange with Maxwell that morning, his brain was well and truly in weekend mode. Not that it tended to stray too far from that mode anyway.

“I’ve got to hand it to you Frye, I don’t know how you managed it, but you did. Put it there pal.” Ned swaggered over and held out his hand. Jacob shook it vigorously, breaking into a broad grin and almost losing the precarious two legged balance he had going on with his chair. If only Ned knew how close he’d come to getting fired and blowing the whole thing.

“Come on, Freddy! Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Jacob called across the room, motioning Freddy over.

Freddy folded his arms defensively and nodded at the clock above the door. “Forgive me if I’m wrong Jacob, but it’s only four o’clock. There’s still time for you to put your foot in it.” He glanced over to Jacob’s pile of unstamped post in the corner and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Case in point. All of that needs to go out _today_ , you know.”

Jacob stuck out his bottom lip in protest, and squinted at the post. To be fair, Freddy was right. Several of the outgoing parcels were Starrick’s. It wouldn’t be wise to leave them sitting there until Monday.

“Relax, Freddy. I’ll do them in a minute. Stop worrying.”

“Someone has to. You’re a liability. I’m not losing my job because of you.” Freddy moaned. He picked up a book from his desk and opened it at a random page, blocking his face from Jacob’s eye line.

“Oh, come now Freddy. You don’t mean that, do you?” Jacob glanced at Ned for support, but Ned just shrugged his bemusement and carried on thumbing through something on his Eden.

Freddy still didn’t answer, and raised the book higher, and Jacob couldn’t help but chuckle when he noticed that the cover was upside down. See, he didn’t deliberately set out to wind Freddy up so much. It was just that, for whatever reason, Freddy seemed to be permanently annoyed with him. Or agitated. Or flustered. Or awkward. In fact, Jacob had never seen someone who could look so awkward at trying _not_ to look awkward.

Maybe he’d relax and loosen up when he had a few drinks in him tonight.

In the end, Freddy gave up trying to ignore him. He huffed, snapped his book shut, and stomped over to Jacob’s pile of post, firing up the franking machine as he started to sort through the parcels for him. Probably not even aware that Jacob could see his reflection in the lone window, not-so-secretly blushing and smiling quietly to himself.

***

Up to that point, Freddy had tried to keep up his air of disapproval, but if he was honest, he quite enjoyed having Jacob around the place—even if he did annoy the hell out of him sometimes. Of course, it had nothing _at all_ to do with Jacob being so damn good looking. Or to do with his deep, brooding, mid hazel eyes. Or, for that matter, his strong chiselled jaw that was outlined so perfectly by that thin haze of stubble. Nope, it had nothing to do with any of that _at all_ , Freddy told himself. None of it at all.

\----------------------------------------------

 

As it was, five o'clock came and went, and contrary to Freddy’s pessimism, nothing bad happened. The world didn’t end, and Jacob didn’t manage to get fired. The bet was won and the three friends agreed to meet at the local bar at eight to celebrate Jacob’s first week at work. Each of them got out their Edens and placed them together on the table, letting Starrick’s technology work its magic and exchange their numbers before they went to sign out at reception.

Each Eden shipped with Starrick-Tech’s social network built into it. The idea being that if you were within a few metres of another person, your Edens would automatically hook up and give you the option to send numbers or friend requests. Evie always thought it was  creepy and had the potential to be misused in the wrong hands, not to mention how concerned she was at the amount of personal information that Starrick-Tech seemed to be gathering. Jacob didn’t have a problem with it though— but then again, he'd never been as cynical as his sister. Besides, you could always switch the feature off if you wanted to, not that Jacob ever did. He’d already managed to collect half of Starrick-Tech’s ground floor employees over the course of his first week. His favourite being the ever-grumpy Aleck on reception.

Ned only lived down the road from Starrick-Tech so he set off on foot, stuffing in his earbuds as he absorbed himself with his Eden—checking his investments no doubt. Jacob had come to notice that Ned had a slight obsession with checking share prices, thoroughly convinced that the stock market was where he’d make his millions one day. He was probably right- he certainly had the brain for it all.

Jacob and Freddy retrieved their bikes and began to cycle together, which wasn’t the easiest of tasks in the rush hour traffic. London + rush hour = nightmare. It was difficult to keep to the same speed what with Freddy, (with his helmet, lights and reflective gear on despite it being a sunny summer afternoon), doing all the correct stops and hand signals while Jacob zipped off in front risking life and limb. By the time they made it out of the complex and onto the main road, the traffic lights were already on red, with most lanes four cars deep. Ordinarily, Jacob wouldn’t let a thing like that stop him, but today he was on his best behaviour. Freddy would soon be on his case if he jumped the lights, so he pulled over to allow for his new friend to catch him up.

Jacob flipped out his Eden and checked his timeline updates while he waited. Nothing particularly interesting had been happening—Henry had posted a selfie of him and Evie eating lunch on the Thames. Boring. Rob Topping had changed his profile pic, _again._ Boring. Ooooh, wait: _*Aleck Graham-Bell is now in a relationship*_

“Uh-ooh Aleck!” Jacob chuckled, quickly trying to think of a witty comment to post. But before he could finish typing something incredibly filthy and wildly inappropriate about ‘ringing’ and ‘bells’, he found himself getting distracted. A car had pulled up beside him at the traffic lights with its windows rolled down and its music blaring. Nineties dance music to be exact. Jacob wouldn’t normally have turned to look if it hadn’t been for the fact that he recognised the song, but as he glanced over, his heart almost stopped when he saw Maxwell sitting there, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. Sunglasses on, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tie tossed on the seat, top button undone and…. _shit_ , staring again. Jacob snapped his head away and glued his eyes firmly on his Eden, not entirely sure if Maxwell had seen him through the cover of his sunglasses.

Oh God. It was happening again....that feeling.

Jacob did his best to look unfazed, flipping through imaginary pages on his Eden and attempting to look engrossed, despite the fact that his shirt was becoming soaked with sweat between his shoulders. His body was letting him down miserably—just like it had that morning.

After what felt like an eternity of awkwardness, the lights changed to amber and Maxwell revved his engine and began to edge forward. Despite desperately trying not to, Jacob couldn’t seem to stop himself cautiously glancing over at the car again. Just quickly, but long enough to catch Maxwell grinning like a Cheshire cat as he reached over to tap something on his dash, before he pulled away and sped off in into the blur of traffic.

_Damn it!_

Jacob slumped over his handlebars. Humiliated and mortified all in one, slapping his Eden repeatedly against his forehead. This was getting ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just act normal around him? And, shit - Maxwell  _obviously_ saw him looking over. Why else would he be grinning and—

“JACOB! _Come on!_ Move it! Green light!”

Jacob startled and spun round, almost falling off his bike. “Bloody hell, Freddy! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” He scrambled to find his feet on his pedals, wondering how long had Freddy been there.

“You’re quite sure it was me?”

Oh great—obviously long enough to catch Jacob staring at Maxwell Roth. Again.

Jacob was about to protest at Freddy’s accusing tone, when his Eden buzzed in his hand. He glanced down at the screen, and nearly threw up at what he saw.

======================

**[New Contact Received]**

             MAXWELL ROTH

**[Accept : Yes/No]**

======================

“Oh _shit!_ ”

“ _JACOB!_ The traffic! _MOVE!_ ” Freddy yelled, high pitched and urgent.

The cars behind them started to honk their horns, but suddenly Jacob's head was spinning. Too much was happening. Seeing Maxwell. Maxwell's message. Freddy shouting. The traffic. 

In a blind panic to pull off, Jacob slammed his feet down on his pedals and slipped down into a lower gear—skipping five gear changes at once. The chain immediately jammed solid, and he watched in silent horror as his bike flipped out from underneath him and flew straight into the path of the car that was pulling off in the next lane. There was a screech, followed by a crunch, followed by a collection of expletives as the car ran over his back wheel, completely buckling it beyond repair.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Freddy dropped his bike on the pavement and ran over to him. Jacob stood in a daze, gawping out at the crumpled mess in the road, still clutching his vibrating Eden.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Can’t say the same about my trusty old bike though.”

A red faced, angry looking man got out of the car and retrieved the mangled bike from under his bumper. Then he slung it in front of them both on the pavement, flipped them the finger, and marched back to his car, muttering something about the _‘idiot youth of today’_ as he drove off and relieved the backlog of traffic behind him.

“Well, I suppose it could’ve been worse." Freddy reasoned. “At least you weren’t on it.”

“Right…”

“I guess you didn’t take your own advice with your bike then—treat it gently etc etc?”

Jacob rolled his eyes. He knew that one would come back to bite him.

“Guilty as charged, sergeant.” He saluted, and turned to pick up his crumbled bike. His heart tugged a little as he leant it against the nearby bin. Funny how something so worthless-looking could hold so many memories. Racing Evie through the streets of Crawley in the summer holidays and taking sneaky shortcuts to ensure his victory...spending rare Sunday afternoons with his father in their garage with the bike up-ended, trying different paint jobs, oiling the gears, fixing the ever-breaking breaks. 

Jacob stroked the scuffed saddle and sighed. “So long, old mate.”

“So what now? The bus should be along in a minute. I have some money if you need some.” Freddy rummaged in his bag for his wallet and fumbled around for some change.

“No, it’s fine, really. I’ll walk. Besides, you need to save that money for plying me with drinks tonight!” Jacob flashed a greedy grin, which Freddy swiftly deflected by looking away.

Freddy chewed his lip for a few moments, thinking. Then he sighed, collected his bike from the pavement, and patted the seat behind him. "Come on. Hop on.”

“What?!” Jacob slapped his hand to his cheek in mock shock, teasing, but still slightly taken aback by Freddy's rather bold suggestion. “Are you sure that’s allowed, Freddy?”

“Just shut up and get on before I change my mind.”

“Oh Freddy, you’re too good to me.”

“Just shut up and get on!”

Jacob did as he was told, gripping the back of the saddle while Freddy wobbled and struggled to pull off. With the extra baggage and Freddy’s suggestion that they should take the scenic route (for road safety reasons, of course), the forty five minute journey ended up taking an hour and a half.

***

Freddy didn’t mind too much. If he was honest, he quite enjoyed having Jacob on the back, whistling and chatting away. Of course, it had nothing _at all_ to do with the warm, giddy feeling that turned over in his stomach when Jacob slipped his arms around his waist to hold on during a particularly bumpy stretch of road. Nope, absolutely nothing to do with that _at all_ , Freddy told himself. Nothing. At. All.

\----------------------------------------------

Jacob was late to the bar. Not because he didn’t know what to wear, or spent ages getting ready—that wasn’t a problem, he’d tossed on the first pair of reasonably clean jeans and the least creased shirt he could find. He was late because of the notification on his Eden. Late because, for the last two hours he’d done little else but sit on his bed and stare at the screen, trying to decide whether to accept the request or not.

Jacob wanted to accept it, of course he did—but what if Maxwell hadn’t actually meant for him to receive it? What if their Edens had just ‘hooked up’ because they were nearby? Jacob’s Eden was always receiving random contact requests because he had the feature turned on. Did Maxwell have his switched on too? Nah. It was probably just a mistake. Maxwell must’ve meant to press something else on his Eden and caught the wrong icon. Yep, that was definitely it. A mistake.

 

“Maxwell Roth doesn’t make mistakes.” Ned said flatly, glaring down at the notification. Jacob had taken the opportunity to discreetly show him at the bar while Freddy was off doing an awkward, but oddly cute collection of moves on the dancefloor.

 _Two beers_. That’s all it took for Freddy Abberline to finally loosen up. _Two beers_.

"But how do you know that for sure, Ned?"

“Get real Jacob! He works for the company that made the software. He knows how to use it.” Ned raised his eyebrows well above the rim of his glasses —face firmly set in 'serious mode' with a mild, but detectable hint of _'don't be a dumbass, Jacob'_ slipping through for good measure. 

“And I don't think he'd have the ‘open to all’ feature active. At least I highly doubt it. Not him—or any of the other execs for that matter. I would say the request was deliberate. He sent it manually. To you. On purpose." It may have sounded like Ned was offering his counsel, but no attempt was made to hide the disapproval in his voice. None whatsoever.

"Question is, why would he do that, Jacob?" Ned narrowed his eyes, watching him closely. "And, what are you going to do about it?"

Jacob shrugged and took a swig of his beer, then distracted himself with the task of peeling the label off the bottle. He liked to collect them. In fact, it was something of a hobby, but judging by the hundreds he had stored in several shoeboxes at home, it was probably more of a damning indication that he'd been drinking too much since moving to London.

“I don’t know. Accept it, I guess.” Jacob briefly thought about telling Ned about Maxwell’s job proposition, but it was quite clear by the horror breaking across his friend's face that it wouldn’t go down well. "He spoke to me today before lunch and—” 

" _What?!"_ Ned choked on his beer and turned to glare at him. “You _spoke_ with him?! You met with _Maxwell Roth?”_

Jacob’s stomach tightened at Ned’s reaction. He went back to fumbling with his beer label, purposely avoiding eye contact, not entirely sure why he was suddenly feeling so guilty.

“No, not exactly _met._ He caught me....he stopped to chat when I took his post, that’s all. Like I said, _he_ spoke to _me_.”

Ned continued to glare at him, eyebrows pulled together, clearly not buying it. “Stopped to chat? Maxwell Roth rarely speaks to anyone. Keeps himself to himself—unless you’re unlucky enough to piss him off, of course.”

Jacob shrugged again, looking back down at his Eden. Maxwell seemed to have quite the reputation.

“Look, just be careful, Jacob. Roth’s not exactly known for being the nicest of men.”

“He seems alright to me.” More than alright.

“Trust me, Jacob. He’s not. He’s trouble.”

But that was the problem. Jacob liked trouble. He liked it a lot. Even more so if it looked like Maxwell Roth.

“Ok, loud and clear. Jeez Ned, you’re beginning to sound like Sergeant Abberline over there.” Jacob winked and gave his friend a playful shove. "Speaking of which, let's keep this between us, right? You know what Freddy's like."

"Gotcha." Ned slapped him on the back, then got up to join Freddy on the dancefloor. Once Ned was out of view and without giving it any more thought, Jacob made a decision. He tapped the screen.

======================

**[New Contact Accepted]**

======================

He slipped his Eden into his back pocket, downed his beer, and joined his new friends on the dancefloor where Freddy had now progressed to throwing his best robot moves —or at least that was what it vaguely resembled. Jacob and Ned attempted to join in and the three of them fell about laughing. After the day he'd just had, Jacob was determined to celebrate, and even more determined to take advantage of the fact that he wasn’t paying for the drinks.

After a while trio decided to move on from the bar and shared a taxi to a new nightclub across the Thames. It was already heaving with revellers by the time they arrived, but Ned muscled himself through the crowd and got the drinks in, and the good times continued. It was all going so well until Jacob caught sight of Freddy swaying and holding his stomach by the toilets.

 _Three beers._ That’s all it took for Freddy Abberline to turn green. _Three beers_.

Ned rushed over and steadied him, catching Freddy just before he attempted sit on the floor. He motioned over to Jacob. “I think this one has had enough. I’d better get him back to mine. Want to share a taxi again?”

“Er, no thanks!” Jacob pointed at Freddy, who had one hand fanning himself with a beer mat and the other gripping Ned’s jacket so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. “It looks like things could get messy, I’ll walk from here. It's not that far.”

“Ok, see you on Monday then….but hey, congratulations again on your first week! It’s been...let's say _'interesting'_ working with you.” Ned grinned and started to guide a very wobbly looking Freddy towards the doorway, but stopped himself short and turned back, face serious again. “Look, remember what I said, Jacob.” He mouthed over the music. _“Be careful.”_

\----------------------------------------------

 

It was already the early hours of Saturday morning by the time Jacob stumbled into bed. Doing his best not to wake Evie and Henry, he stripped to his boxers and slumped down, face first on the duvet. By rights, judging by the amount of alcohol in his system, he should’ve been flat out asleep and dead to the world, but no matter how much he’d drank, he couldn’t stop thinking about Maxwell and everything that had happened that day—and at that very same moment, he realised he’d not checked his Eden for a while. He reached his arm down and fumbled on the floor for his jeans and retrieved it, rubbing his eyes while he tried to focus on the screen.

\------------------------------------------

 **1 New Message:** Maxwell Roth

\------------------------------------------

 **Maxwell:** _Jacob! Spoke to Starrick. You, my dear, are now the official face of the Eden Tablet! Think it over and come see me Monday morning. Now pick your jaw up from the floor and get some beauty sleep._

_Max_

\------------------------------------------

 

 _Oh. Shit_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go! Hope you enjoyed it....PS, it won't be office based for much longer....just in case you were wondering ;)
> 
> Please do let me know what you think, good or bad. I'm still very new at this writing business so any feedback will help me improve :)


	4. Friends Without Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob tells Evie about Maxwell's modelling offer and Freddy gives his new friend a lift to work, only to make an unsettling discovery along the way.
> 
> (This chapter picks up from the morning after the drunken night before...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 4 at last!!  
> I am so very very sorry for taking so long to update my two fics on here. As you may have read in the comments, I’ve had this chapter written since the summer, but life has been pretty tough and upsetting to say the very least, so my writing had to take a back seat.
> 
> Anyhow, hopefully the chapters will come a lot quicker from here on in! (I'll be posting chapter 10 of my other RothFrye fic in a few days too).
> 
> By the way, thank you so much to those of you that left me the lovely comments, subs and kudos - and also for the supportive messages on Tumblr. Every last one of them made me smile and lifted my spirits at a time when they really needed lifting! :) x x 
> 
> I'll shut up now and let you read. I hope you like it!

** Chapter 4 – Friends Without Benefits **

As Saturdays went, Jacob’s was starting fairly typically. Hungover, tongue as furry as a thick pile carpet, and the faint smell of (now cold) coffee wafting over from the mug left on the side by Evie some hours earlier—purposely placed just out of arm’s reach to force him to get out of bed. Nice try Evie— _one nil to him_.

Jacob rolled onto his back and slung his clammy arm over his eyes, letting out a low muffled moan as he went. Half because he was on the fringes of the mother of all headaches, and half because his other hand was merrily fumbling away in his boxers. He’d read somewhere earlier in the week, (a dubious article in a trashy magazine) that jerking off helped cure hangovers, so, purely in the name of scientific research, Jacob thought he’d give it a try. And if nothing else, he figured it would take his mind off everything that had happened with Maxwell yesterday—and it might’ve worked too, if it hadn’t been for the quite literal buzz kill of his Eden, vibrating on the bedside table and pulling his attention away from the matter in ‘hand’.

Jacob snatched his Eden before it buzzed itself off the edge and into his pile of week old washing, then scooted up the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning. He hovered his thumb over the screen, ready to unlock it, only he didn’t swipe it—he hesitated, stomach twinging and tightening a little. Because what if it was another message from Maxwell? A reply to Jacob’s painfully awkward one word answer of _‘Great’_ last night—which actually took him an hour and several rewrites to send.

_Which was bloody ridiculous._

See, in the week since starting work at Starrick-Tech, Jacob had watched himself slowly morph into someone he didn’t recognise and he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it. All because of Maxwell Roth. And the best part was, Maxwell wasn’t even his type. Not that he had a type, par say, (especially that one summer a few years back in Rob Topping’s _‘Treehouse of Love’ —_ Jacob had been open to anything with anyone….) but if pressed to pin his preference down, he’d say that he tended to have a soft spot for the more awkward, geeky, nerdy types. Quiet and shy. The opposite of himself, basically.

Yet Maxwell Roth couldn’t be further down the other end of the spectrum if he tried. Something about Maxwell tugged at Jacob’s inner rebel— the part that always got him into trouble. The same part that spent the night in many a police station in his youth. Maxwell was older, and cooler, and intriguing, and better yet, he had a _bad_ _reputation._ And Jacob had a weakness for things that were bad for him…and the fact that Evie would absolutely and categorically disapprove, somehow made Maxwell even hotter.

Jacob’s Eden buzzed again in his hand, impatiently demanding his attention. There was no avoiding it—or a flat battery if he carried on letting it vibrate—so he steeled himself and swiped the screen, blowing out a semi-relieved, but mostly disappointed sigh when Ned’s name popped up, alongside a photo from last night captioned, _‘Freddy’s wild night on the tiles’_.

And there he was, Freddy Abberline—out like a light on Ned’s bathroom floor. Sat there in his Batman underpants, hugging the toilet bowl with his cheek pressed against the seat and a pair of Ned's over-sized sunglasses all wonky and squished up sideways across his forehead. Jacob chuckled. Poor Freddy. Or poor, ‘ _Three Beers Freddy’_ to be exact _._

Jacob couldn’t help himself:

\------------------------------------------

 **Jacob:** _Goooood morning Freddy! :D_

 **Freddy:** _It’s 12.07 so technically, it’s afternoon…but hello_

 **Jacob:** _How are you feeling?_

 **Freddy:** _Terrible_

 **Jacob:** _I know a good cure for that. Scientifically proven too ;)_

 **Freddy:** _Kn_ _owing you, I’m not even going to ask..._

 **Jacob:** _That's not what you were saying last night Freddy..._.y _ou sly devil, you._

_*Short pause*_

**Freddy:** _OK, I'll bite._ _What do you mean?_      

 **Jacob:** _Those messages you sent me Freddy. You were very saucy…_

 **Freddy:** _Excuse me????_

_*Longer pause while Freddy frantically checked his Eden/e-mail/social media ‘sent’ folders*_

**Freddy:** _Not funny, Jacob_

 **Jacob:** _Haha_ _!! Sorry, couldn't resist :D_

 **Freddy:** _You're sooo not sorry_

 **Jacob:** _And_ _ur_ _sooo too easy_

 **Freddy:** _So, anyway, if you didn’t want anything, I'm going to go now. See you on Monday_

 **Jacob:** _Not if you see me in your dreams first, eh?_

_*Short pause*_

**Jacob:** _Freddy?_

 

_*Short pause*_

 

 **Jacob:** _Freddy-bear?_

_*Slightly longer pause*_

**Jacob:** _Sorry_

 **Freddy:** _Monday_

 **Jacob:** _;D_

\------------------------------------------

And with that, Jacob threw back his duvet and took himself, his hangover, and his hangover curing hand to the shower. And if science was proved wrong and his headache remained, then it was back to bed to binge-watch reality TV. The perfect Saturday either way.

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

 

Jacob’s Sunday started less typically—rudely awakened at 10:30am by the sound of Evie and Henry noisily dragging their suitcases across the landing and having one of their ‘non-arguments’ about who’d packed the anti-diarrhoea tablets. Turns out they both had, wishing to avoid a repeat of what happened in Egypt, apparently—so Jacob learnt in great detail as he listened. 

Unable to erase that particularly unpleasant image, Jacob gave up trying to go back to sleep and pulled on his jeans, following them downstairs in the hope of getting one last breakfast cooked for him before they jetted off and left him to fend for himself.

***

“You? _A model?_ What for? The ‘before’ photo on some industrial strength soap?” Evie chuckled to herself over her coffee, throwing a knowing glance over to Henry who was also laughing, (although trying much harder than Evie to conceal it) while he collected their luggage together in the hallway by the front door.

“Ha-ha, hilarious. Evie Frye, where _do_ you get it from?” Jacob sneered, and flopped down on the couch opposite, already regretting his decision to tell her about Maxwell’s offer. He knew she'd be like this. If there was one area that Evie excelled in over Jacob, it was sarcasm. She was a grade A student in the subject.

“The same place as you, Jacob. So what’s this all about then?” She asked, leafing through her passport and boarding papers for the airport, clearly only half listening.

“An advert...for the Eden tablet that Starrick’s launching in the autumn.”

Evie's head shot up to look at him, her jaw dropping open slightly. Oh, so _now_ she was interested. Her eyes flicked towards Henry again, then back at Jacob, apparently dumbstruck by the notion that her twin might be considered for such a thing, and quite blatantly sporting the kind of  ‘ _WTF?’_ expression that Jacob didn’t know if he should be offended by or not.

 _“Really_? And they’ve asked _you?_ Are you actually being serious, Jacob?”

“Deadly!” Jacob huffed, now definitely taking offence. “And why is that so hard to believe?!” He folded his arms and slung his feet on the coffee table. His middle toe was shamelessly poking out of a hole in his socks (in effect, flipping her 'the toe' as oppose to 'the finger') and Jacob felt extremely smug in the knowledge that those were the very socks that Evie was constantly badgering him to throw away. _Two nil to him._

“That’s quite a big deal, Jacob.” Henry offered, still struggling to balance Evie’s four large suitcases next to his relatively small one in the narrow hallway—anyone would think they were going to India for three months, not three weeks, although given Evie’s nerves about meeting Henry’s parents for the first time, she could be forgiven for over-preparing slightly.

“Well, thank you, Greenie.” Jacob called over to him, throwing Evie a smug ' _at-least-someone-is-taking-me-seriously'_ smile.

But then it dawned on him—maybe Henry was right. Jacob hadn’t really thought of the whole modelling thing as a ‘big deal’ before. Mainly because, whenever he pictured anything to do with it, his mind always wandered into untamed fantasies of how Maxwell would be the one behind the camera at the photo shoot, eyes all over him, encouraging him and showering him with compliments. And then Jacob would play up to him, easing his t-shirt off, slowly rolling his chest and giving Maxwell his best sultry look. And then Jacob would peel off his jeans, teasing Maxwell, taking his time, swaying his hips as he worked them down his thighs…and then Maxwell would lose it and order everyone out of the room, throwing the camera to the floor, probably breaking it (but the SD card would be okay and save the photos, obviously)….and then Maxwell would growl and march over to Jacob and bend him backwards over whatever prop they were using, (a table, a bed, a car bonnet—that particular detail varied in wildness depending on how long Jacob let his mind wander) and have his way with him.

“So, are you actually going to do it? For real?” Evie narrowed her eyes, a predictable hint of suspicion starting to seep through the initial, thinly veiled disbelief.

Truth was, Jacob had made up his mind the very moment Maxwell had asked him on Friday. Of course he was going to do it. Sexual fantasies aside, how hard could it be to stand there and have your photograph taken anyway? With the amount of selfies that Jacob took, he was already an expert at striking a pose. All he had to do was show up, stand still, and smile (or not smile, or pout, or brood, or whatever— depending on what kind of advert it was). And then he could put the money towards a new bike for work, or better yet, a _moped_ ….and a new PS4….heck, maybe even an Xbox One too.

And the rent, of course.

“Maybe. I’m considering it.” Jacob lied, avoiding Evie's laser-like death stare that was currently scanning him up and down for inconsistencies. ”I’m meeting with Maxwell on Monday to discuss it and—”

“Who’s Maxwell?” Evie interrupted, tilting her head as she handed her passport to Henry, who had now perched himself beside her on the arm of the couch, listening, but clearly in a state of bemused amusement. Anyone would think Jacob had just announced that he’d been recruited by NASA to join the manned mission to Mars by the way they were both handling this.

Jacob stomach tightened. He retrieved his Eden from his back pocket and glanced down at the screen, thumbing through the crude memes and animated GIFs he’d Googled to spam Freddy and Ned with later—anything to stop Evie detecting even the slightest hint of reaction in him when he spoke about Maxwell.

“Maxwell Roth.” He fake-yawned his reply. “He’s head of marketing and wants to—”.

“Maxwell _Roth_?” Evie repeated, twice. “Why does that name ring a bell?” She picked her own Eden up off the coffee table and started typing, the crevice-like line already set between her eyebrows somehow growing even deeper. She’d need botox before she was thirty if she kept this up.

Jacob shrugged. “That boy you used to fancy at the pick-and-mix counter in the cinema when we were teenagers, perhaps?”

“ _Jacob!_ I did _not_ —” Evie stopped herself and shot him a brief, sarcastic smile, then resumed scrolling on her Eden and chewing on her cheek, suspicious. “I remember reading about someone named Roth last year. I'm sure it was to do with something dodgy. It’s an unusual name…it stuck in my mind.” She glanced up. “Jacob, how long have you known about this?”

“Since Friday.”

“Friday?! And you’re telling us _now?_ Five minutes before the cab arrives to take us half way around the world?” Evie huffed and scrolled faster, plainly frustrated at not managing to find what she was looking for.

“Make that zero minutes.” Henry pointed out the window to the black cab that had just screeched to a halt outside. The driver narrowly missed their recycling bin (which Jacob had forgotten to bring in) and immediately started honking his horn impatiently. “I’ll take the suitcases out and leave you two to say your goodbyes.” Henry squeezed Jacob on the arm and winked as he walked past. “Good luck, Jacob. I’m sure it will be fine.”

Evie sighed, then pocketed her Eden and rose from the couch, holding out her arms. Jacob stood and rolled his eyes, overplaying his reluctance for the hug.

“I just wish this wasn’t happening while we’re away. I should be helping you with this. Look, keep me informed. Of _everything_. Don’t agree to anything stupid, or dodgy. And make sure they pay you well—this is a massive opportunity for you!” She shrugged on her denim jacket and made her way to the doorway, taking one last wistful glance over Jacob's shoulder towards the immaculately tidy lounge. “And Jacob, _please_ don’t trash the place or upset the neighbours while we're gone. No loud music. No parties. No—”

“Fun?” Jacob offered, shaking his head at her complete (though probably justified) lack of confidence in him. “Lecture over, dear sister?”

“Lecture over, worrisome brother.” Evie smiled back wryly and hugged him again. “I’ll message you when we get there.”

 

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_Monday_

Freddy sat patiently at the crossroads in his mum’s tomato red Mini Cooper, indicating left and double checking his mirrors and his blind spots, then he pulled onto the familiar tree lined street where he’d dropped Jacob off approximately sixty seven hours before—not that Freddy was counting or anything.

He’d been toying with the idea all weekend. Should he offer Jacob a lift to work? Or, should he let him get on with it? It wasn’t like it was his fault that Jacob was so allergic to buses. Problem was, Freddy was still feeling slightly guilty about the whole ‘bike getting squashed under the car incident’. After all, it _was_ Freddy that’d yelled at Jacob to hurry up at the lights— although, if Jacob hadn’t been so preoccupied with gawping at Maxwell Roth, then he wouldn’t have been holding up the traffic in the first place.

Either way, after overthinking it to the point of exhaustion, Freddy had decided to go with the third and least committal option. He’d take a slight (well actually, quite major) detour from his usual commute to Starrick-Tech, and if there was absolutely no sign of Jacob along the way, then that was fine, that was okay, that was cool. But if he _did_ happen to spot him, dawdling along like a lost puppy, then Freddy would pull over and offer him a lift—because that's what friends did. Right?

See, Freddy didn’t make new friends very easily. A self-confessed introvert by nature and very comfortable with the fact, so no-one could’ve been more surprised than him at how quickly Jacob had got under his skin. Jacob had become a bit like the irritating rash that Freddy developed in high school after he'd left his P.E kit on the bus and had to borrow the unwashed ‘reserve’ — the kind of rash that kept Freddy awake at night, and was there again first thing in the morning. An itch that wouldn’t go away—always niggling at the back of Freddy’s mind, distracting, and infuriating, and uncomfortable…. _and_ _hot_.

***

“Morning, Freddy!” Jacob beamed, plonking himself down in the passenger seat as he tussled his shower wet hair back into position.

“Morning.” Freddy nodded, inwardly sighing at the splattering of water drops that flipped towards him and landed on his freshly ironed grey trousers.

_First Jacob Frye related annoyance of the day._

An odd smell had followed Jacob into the car, unpleasant and bitter, wafting off Jacob’s clothes and assaulting Freddy in both nostrils—the origin of which quickly became apparent when Jacob stuffed the offending article into his mouth. Toast. Burnt, no, _charred_ toast. Trying to be friendly, (because that's what they were, friends) Freddy opted not to bring attention to it, and discretely leant towards his door, cracking the window a bit and covering his nose with his shirt sleeve while he waited for the worst of it to pass. Like a good many of his ideas, Freddy was already realising that this one played out _much_ better in his head than in reality.

“I didn’t know you could drive, Freddy.” Jacob chirped between munches, oblivious.

“I can, clearly, I just prefer not to unless it’s necessary.” Freddy answered, muffled by his cuff and still not trusting an in-breath.

It was true, Freddy wasn’t a big driver, and living in London with regular tubes, trains and buses meant it was never really an issue. He’d passed his driving test soon after his eighteenth birthday, but never really felt the urge to save for a car, so the extent of his driving boiled down to supermarket runs with his mum once a week, and the odd trip to the _Book & Comic Exchange_ in Notting Hill (the source of his mild addiction to second hand and out of print crime novels set in Victorian London) if the fancy took him. But now, apparently, he also drove in to work (and out of his comfort zone) on some of the most congested, polluted and nightmarish roads in London.

“Do you? Drive, I mean?" Freddy asked, indicating as he pulled off and joined the steady stream of traffic, glad of the fresh breeze that began to pour through the window—exorcising the smell of the deceased bread from the car as it went.

“No, I never really got around to it. Evie's always nagging me to learn though.”

Evie?

_Oh._

“So you live with your...?” Freddy asked, doing his best not to sound overly interested, but asking anyway because that’s what friends did—ask things about each other, right?

“Sister, and her boyfriend, Henry.” Jacob sighed. “It's Fun Central at ours.”

“Right.” Freddy turned to check his wing mirror and caught the corner of his mouth quirking in his reflection, feeling a little more pleased than he probably should have that Jacob didn’t say ‘girlfriend’.

“So did you get those GIFs I sent you last night?” Jacob asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yes, sadly I did.”

Jacob turned to face Freddy. He bounced sideways in his seat and produced a filthy grin and a throaty chuckle to match. “What, even the one with the—“

“Yes, Jacob,” Freddy stopped him, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Even _that_ one, unfortunately. Maybe you could refrain from tagging me in those? My mum’s on my EdenBook.”

“Oohhh……sorry.” Jacob smirked, spraying toast crumbs in several directions, then he smiled innocently—like butter wouldn’t melt. Only it definitely would. Melt and quickly come to the boil. Why did he have to do that? That irritating thing that he did with his face and his mouth and his eyes. Those big, dreamy, hazel eyes.

_Second Jacob Frye related annoyance of the day._

Freddy chose to ignore him—because any further acknowledgement would only encourage him anyway—and concentrated on driving, doing his best to remember the new route he’d memorised from Google Maps while Jacob finished his ‘breakfast’. Freddy took a right at the next roundabout, then a left at Sainsburys, then straight on into Animus Business Park, and unfortunately, straight into a stationary line of traffic. _Roadworks._ Some bright spark had decided that Monday morning was the perfect time to start digging up the road and laying down fibre optic broadband cable. Workmen, diggers, orange cones, pneumatic drills and temporary traffic lights littered the way. The whole area looked like a bomb site—with Starrick-Tech looming on the horizon like a mushroom cloud at the end of the complex.

“Looks like we might be here for the duration.” Freddy sighed, blowing out his cheeks as he edged forward to join the queue. Yep, this was definitely turning out to be one of his _‘what were you thinking?’_ ideas. If he’d just rode in to work on his bike, _alone_ and on his normal route, then he’d be signed in, chatting with Ned and relaxing with a coffee by now. But no, here he was, sat in a traffic jam with Jacob Frye—who was definitely in one of his more annoying moods.

“No problem, Freddy. Allow me to provide us with some entertainment.” Jacob pulled his Eden from his back pocket and placed it in the holder on the dash between them, then proceeded to prod at the buttons on Freddy’s mum’s car radio. And then it started—the music, if you could call it that. The volume started rising and Freddy’s heart started sinking. Jacob was blue-toothing his favourite band, _The Rooks,_ and it was _awful_. Ear splittingly awful. What Freddy knew about non-mainstream music he could write on the back of a postage stamp, but it was probably safe to say that The Rooks were an acquired taste—giving the pneumatic drill out the window a run for its money in the category of musical aptitude.

_Third Jacob Frye related annoyance of the day._

Jacob was into it though _. Really_ into it. Swaying in his seat, bobbing his head and drumming on his hips with his palms. Mouthing along to the (mostly incoherent, to Freddy) lyrics with his eyes squeezed shut and his eyebrows pulled together in angst. And if Freddy was honest, it was kinda cute, the way Jacob looked so free and uninhibited. And, doing his best to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that was growing in his stomach while he watched, Freddy realised that he almost felt jealous. He could never let go like that, at least not in front of people. On his own with a hairbrush, a mirror and the Top 40 on the radio, yep, but in public? No way. But Jacob was totally absorbed. Completely taken over by the music. So much so that he didn’t seem to notice that his Eden had lit up and was flashing and buzzing on the dash.

Freddy ignored it at first, keeping his eyes fixed on the vulgar bumper sticker on the car in front, then on the workmen digging up the road—although that wasn’t much better thanks to the amount of ill-fitting trousers and the inevitable collection of bum cracks on show— but anything to avoid looking at Jacob’s Eden. But it continued to buzz and buzz and _buzz_. So Freddy looked, only a quick glance though. Anything longer than that would’ve been snooping, and Freddy Abberline didn’t snoop.

Turns out Freddy didn’t need to snoop. The message preview said it all, blinking at him in all its arrogant, flaunty glory.

Freddy’s mouth fell open.

\------------------------------------------

  **1 New Message:** Maxwell Roth

\------------------------------------------

 **Maxwell:** _Jacob! Change of plan. I’m going to be tied up this morning, and not in a pleasurable way, sadly. How does lunch/coffee grab you? At the café down by the riverbank? There’s an outside area for us smokers...._

_Max_

\------------------------------------------

 

And in that moment, Freddy learnt three things. One, that Jacob was a smoker. Two, that Jacob was receiving mildly suggestive messages from—and by the look of it, possibly meeting up with—Maxwell Roth. And three, that Freddy wasn’t happy about either discovery.

As the din that loosely resembled a song finished, Jacob’s head also angled toward the buzzing noise, and from nowhere, he lunged forward and hastily snatched up his Eden from the dash. Freddy watched through the corner of his eyes as the dimples on Jacob’s cheeks deepened, his lips pursing as if to rein in a smile. A faint but tangible flush crept across the bridge of Jacob's nose the longer he stared at the screen.

“Everything okay?” Freddy asked, as flatly as he could, but not quite managing to stop his eyebrows from dipping. Jacob tapped his Eden on his chin a few times, then turned it over in his hand a few times more, then swiped it closed and slid it into his back pocket. He nodded and flipped Freddy’s mum’s radio back to her default station, Classic FM —soothing syrup for the ears after what had preceded it.

“Yeah—fine. Great. Just Aleck, being a dick.” Jacob said quickly, running the pads of his fingers over the scruff of his chin as he stared dead ahead. 

“Right...” Freddy nodded back slowly, heart sinking a little. 

Neither of them said much else after that. The traffic gradually cleared and Freddy pulled into Starrick-Tech's massive, and now completely full carpark. The only spaces left were right at the back, so Jacob offered to sprint ahead with their key cards to scan them in and avoid getting a late stamp—three stamps and you were out at Starrick-Tech.

Freddy watched him go as he grabbed his bag off the back seat and locked the car up, feeling his stomach twist a little when he caught Jacob eyeing Maxwell Roth’s car as he ran past.

Make that four things that Freddy learnt that day—Jacob Frye was also a liar. And friends didn’t lie to each other. Did they?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go! More to come very soon. Roth is back in the next chapter, so hold on to your top hats! 
> 
> PS - I am in no way trying to make a negative statement about smoking in this fic. I have absolutely no problem with people smoking at all! 
> 
> As always, I'm still very new at writing, so if you'd like to leave me feedback, good or bad, it's very much appreciated and helps me improve.


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